


in salt we sowed

by charlestonIguess



Series: bones beats people up (fem!Reaper series) [2]
Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Eventually a series, F/M, Fem!McCoy - Freeform, Genderbend, Her name is Lenore, Made up guns, Minor Character Death, Olduvai, Reaper!McCoy, fight me, i don't have an excuse, if I finish this one, unrealistic medical information
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 04:49:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlestonIguess/pseuds/charlestonIguess
Summary: Lenore McCoy left Joanna Grimm in the past, buried next to her twin brother. Sometimes, the universe doesn't let go.





	1. let me sleep

**Author's Note:**

> hooooo boy this is purely (and I mean purely) self-indulgent. I love the idea of fem!McCoy with all my tiny shrivelled heart and I've watched Doom twice in the past two days. This happened entirely by accident. I now have an entire series in my head. Will it happen? It's possible. Anyone who knows me as a person will say 'probably not'.  
> On the relationships: this story isn't actually about either of those ships, but I'm marking them in to warn people of the hints. If you're reading this for Spones, let's call this slow burn, okay?

Walking onto the bridge to see Admiral Pike’s face on the viewscreen wasn’t unfamiliar to Lenore McCoy, but it did set her heart racing. Nothing good came of that expression on Jim’s favourite admiral’s face, especially when they hadn’t had the chance to restock her medical supplies since that mess on Havi III. She pressed a hand to her stomach, remembering the feeling of the blade cutting into her skin. There wasn’t even a faint scar there now, of course, but it was just another nightmare to keep waking up from.

Of course, when Pike’s eyes caught sight of her and actually _stayed focused on her_ , she knew this wasn’t going to be their usual brand of stupidity.

“Doctor,” he greeted, and the bridge crew turned to look at her. Jim was in his chair, as usual, with Spock at his right-hand. Uhura, Sulu and Chekov sat at their positions. There were a couple of ensigns hovering over a science station on the other side of the bridge, and Lieutenant Hendorff was monitoring his security station as always. He barely looked up at her entrance.

“Admiral,” she greeted, unable to quite keep the edge out of her voice. She and Chris had a mutual respect going on, these days, ever since she saved his life after the Nerada. That didn’t mean she liked talking to him. She turned to her captain instead. “Jim, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Jim said, glancing between her and the viewscreen. “Admiral Pike requested your presence.”

Did he, now. She looked back at the viewscreen, eyebrow raised. “Sir?”

“Lenore,” he said, and the break in protocol sent a shot of cold right to her stomach. She straightened up and crossed the bridge to hover at Jim’s left hand. Pike bit his lip. “It’s about Olduvai.”

She didn’t know what her face did, but Jim was out of his seat and reaching for her as she stepped backwards, pulse pounding in her ears. Jim grabbed her arm and she looked at him blindly, sucking in a deep breath and holding it there. God fucking dammit all.

“Bones!” Jim was saying. “Are you okay?”

She took another deep breath and said, “I’m fine.”

“Doctor,” Spock said. “While the term ‘fine’ has multiple variations, I find it unlikely that your current state counts as any of them.”

Her lips twitched as she eyed the Vulcan. In any other circumstances, she’d launch into a fierce debate about white lies and self-expression, but there wasn’t time for it now. Instead, she brushed Jim’s hands off and turned back to Pike.

“What’s happened?” she demanded. The words were out before she decided whether she wanted to know the answer or not.

Pike sighed. “The final dissolution of the UAC assets happened last month. The fleet picked some of the lots up.”

“Including Olduvai,” she said, already filling in the blanks. “They want to open it up.”

“Lenore-”

She shook her head. She wanted to scream. “What sort of – of _moron_ would see the reports and want to-?” She couldn’t finish. Jim was still staring at her in concern. The whole bridge crew was.

Pike grimaced. “You know how the admiralty are with scientific discovery-”

“Discovery?” She laughed bitterly. “The only thing Olduvai has to offer anyone is new and exciting ways to die, Chris.” He stared at her and, despite the lightyears between them, she could almost feel his hand in hers. Goddamn bastard. “You have to stop them.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he told her. “Len, there’s only so much I can do. Despite what Jim likes to believe, I’m not the final authority back here.”

She snorted despite herself. “Jim believes a lot of crap.”

Pike smiled at Jim’s offended yelp of, “Hey!” beside her. “They’ve given me some leeway, here,” he told her. “I’m allowed to send in a team to clear it before we let the scientists in. And, if there’s evidence it’s too dangerous for them to start back up, I can shut them down. But…”

“But you need someone to actually go down there,” she finished. Fuck. She couldn’t quite pinpoint how she felt at the whole situation. Dread? Sure, because Olduvai was shit straight out of her nightmares, worse than anything she’d seen since boarding the Enterprise. But that wasn’t all she felt, and the rest of it was too jumbled for her to even start figuring out. No matter how many psych degrees she got, they were never enough to sort out her own head. “Damn it, Chris.”

“I know,” he said, and in his defence he sounded about as miserable as she did. “Len, you know I wouldn’t ask this if I didn’t have to-”

“I don’t blame you, Chris,” she said softly. She couldn’t quite meet Jim’s eyes, so she stayed focused on the viewscreen. “And you know I wouldn’t let anyone else do this.”

“I do,” Chris said, and in that second he was Chris, not Pike, or Admiral. The lines of his face softened and he looked at her like she was something precious. She hadn’t seen that look in someone’s eyes for a long time. And then the second ended and he was all business again. “But you and I both know you can’t go alone.”

That’s what she’d been waiting to hear and she was already shaking her head. “No way,” she said, but Chris was still speaking over her.

“I can give you the command of the mission as a specialist, but you’ll need a tac team with you-”

“That’s not happening, damn it-”

“I’d suggest you take at least five-”

“So I can drag their bodies back here too? Don’t ask me-”

“It’s not a request, Doctor, it’s an order-”

“Damn it, Chris!” She threw her arms in the air and they both fell silent. She was panting, fists clenched, but when she folded her arms over her chest she had control of herself again. The bridge was eerily silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jim shift forwards and she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Chris,” she said lowly, “I can’t protect them.”

“That’s not your responsibility, Lieutenant Commander,” Pike said, and the rank fell awkwardly on her shoulders. She glared at him, but he already knew exactly what buttons he was pressing. “I won’t order anyone to go down to the base with you. Volunteers only. And all of them will know exactly what the chances are of making it back.”

“And what are the chances?” Jim asked from beside her, his Captain Voice firmly in use. “Of survival?”

She felt a rush of affection for her friend, but squelched it firmly in time to say, “Last time-” Her voice broke and she started again. “There were two hundred people in the base on Olduvai and in the UAC compound attached. Two survived.”

“Two?” Jim repeated, staring at her with wide eyes. “Two people? Out of two hundred?”

She nodded. Chris was gearing up to speak again so she hastened to add, “And one of the survivors was permanently paralysed. Olduvai is bad news, Jim. The best thing we can do,” she said, turning back to the viewscreen, “Is blow the damn thing up from orbit.”

Chris shook his head and she cursed him viciously, in every language she knew. Thankfully, she had the foresight to bite her tongue, so the only place the words sounded was inside her own mind. “You know that won’t work out, Len. We need proof to shut that place down permanently.”

She rubbed a hand over her head and sighed. Avoiding her friend’s gaze, she stared firmly at the corner of the viewscreen and tried to figure out how the hell she was going to spin this one. Almost 250 years of life, and she still had yet to figure out a lie that would let her continue her life after the truth about Olduvai came out.

“Alright,” she heard Jim say. “Send us the briefing details, Admiral, and we’ll put together a team. Sulu, set course for Mars. Is there anything else, Admiral?”

“No, Captain,” Pike said. “Just – don’t make any snap judgements here, alright Jim? You don’t know what you’re up against.”

“With all due respect, Admiral,” Lenore found herself drawling. “You don’t, either.”

Chris flinched as the words hit home, but he conceded the point with a nod. “When you arrive in the Sol system, contact me again. I want to be read in on every part of this before it happens.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim said and the subspace connection cut off, leaving the viewscreen blank except for the stars outside. Lenore wondered when that had become more comforting than terrifying.

She turned back to Jim and grimaced to find every eye on her. Scowling, she snapped, “Don’t y’all have work to do?”

“Right,” Jim said. “Sulu, have you plotted our course?”

“Yes, Captain,” the helmsman said. “Six hours at warp five.”

“Engage.” Jim stepped away from the chair and added, “Bones, Spock, my ready room. Sulu, you have the conn.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu said and rose from his station as Lenore followed her captain from the bridge with a heavy heart.

 

***

 

Jim didn’t take a seat, so neither did Lenore. Spock did, but only for ease of access as he pulled up the files Pike had sent, bringing them up on the display. Lenore flinched at the pictures there: the dig outside, the scientists standing together – with goddamned Cormack front and centre, the bastard – or the image of her squad, standing shoulder to shoulder. And there she was, one of the only remaining images of her from back then, just behind Sarge and next to Mac, who had a fond smile as he looked down at her.

She remembered a scream and then sickening silence, and turned away from the picture. Jim wasn’t looking at the files, instead staring out of the viewport at the stars, but she could see Spock had put it together from the tightness in his eyes as they darted between the picture and her standing in front of him.

She offered him a lopsided smile and threw herself into a seat. Jim spun around at the noise and stared at her. There weren’t words for the look on his face.

This wasn’t a betrayal, she told herself firmly. He had never told her everything about his life. She’d had to guess about Tarsus IV. The way he was staring at her now – it wasn’t _fair_. She had a right to secrets.

_Not this kind_ , she thought, and that was the kind of thought she couldn’t shove back into its box. Damn it all.

Finally, Jim broke the silence in the ready room. “Bones,” he said slowly. “I’m going to need you to start at the beginning.”

The beginning. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,” Lenore told him. “But Jim, I can’t do this twice. I’ll tell you everything,” she promised, forestalling his protests, “But I won’t be able to brief the security department as well. Not if I-” She broke off and sucked in another breath. Thankfully, Jim seemed to get it.

“Okay, Bones,” he said, sliding into a chair across from her. “Just… tell me what you can.”

Placing her hands on the table in front of her, Lenore started at the beginning. “In 2046, I was a member of the double-arr-tee-ess six squad. We were a group of marines, sent in to deal with situations that no one else was prepared to.” She sighed and glanced between Spock and Jim, who were both wearing patently disbelieving expressions. It was familiar enough to make her smile. “It was – God, you have to understand. The whole world was at war. Our team – the shit we’d seen, Jim, it didn’t bear thinking about. Us going up to Olduvai to answer a level 5 lockdown? We expected it to be more of the same. We weren’t prepared for what we found.”

“In 2046, your Earth’s World War III was still on-going, correct?”

She nodded at Spock. “World War III was a direct response to the Eugenics Wars,” she told them. “During the war, they tried to control us through enhanced drugs. Shit that would put you into fight mode, turn your adrenaline up to eleven, make you keep going through any pain they put you through. Our squad didn’t need that shit,” she told them. “Sarge – Asher Mahonin, he was our Gunnery Sergeant, in charge of our squad – he didn’t let them drug us if he could avoid it. Of course, he couldn’t stop us from taking it willingly.” She closed her eyes against the image of the Kid’s eyes, almost all pupil in the red glow of her emergency lights.

“Did you…?” Jim asked. She shook her head.

“Hell, no,” she spat. “I was smarter than that. But our squad – God, Jim. You don’t get into that job unless you’re running from something,” she told them both. She leaned across Spock and pulled up the picture of her squad, letting it fill one of the viewscreens. Jim stared at the old picture of her, but Spock’s eyes were on the real version of her. It should have made her uncomfortable, but it didn’t – kind of how she felt about Spock in general, she mused.

“That’s Sarge, in the middle. Then there’s Duke and Destroyer to his left, and Goat and Portman next to them. Mac’s the one next to me, on the right.”

“Who’s the kid?” Jim asked, pointing, and Lenore’s lips twitched in amusement.

“The Kid,” she replied. “That’s what we called him. It was his first mission.” The amusement faded. “Sarge shot him in the throat for refusing to execute a room full of women and children.”

Jim’s head snapped around to stare at her in horror. She met his gaze unflinchingly. “You… what?” Jim shook his head. “Bones, what happened down there?”

Instead of answering his question, she reached across the screen and pulled up a different file – Lucy, the picture of her cradling her child, and her genetic breakdown. “What do you notice, Mr Spock?”

“The humanoid has a 24-chromosome genetic structure,” he began, and Lenore grinned.

“Got it in one,” she said. “But the 24th chromosome wasn’t a natural development of this alien species. The scientists studying it believed it to have been artificially induced, in order to increase the subject’s metabolism and synaptic responses.”

“How did it work?” Jim asked, blue eyes locked unwaveringly on her again.

Lenore took a leap of faith. “If I knew that, I’d have taken it out of my DNA 200 years ago.” Jim’s draw dropped open. Spock turned from his study of the file in front of him to stare at her, unabashed. She shrugged. “My name back then was Joanna Grimm, and I was the second in command of the RRTS.”

“You were a marine,” Jim said flatly. “You. Miss-I-can’t-use-a-phaser-damn-it-I’m-a-doctor.”

“Never said I can’t use one,” she replied. “Just that I don’t need one. And I don’t.” Shaking her head, she turned back to the briefing. “The scientists studying the genetic structure decided that it would be _just swell_ to recreate the effect, especially with a human subject. Naturally, rather than get a volunteer – or follow any legal procedure at all, considering the fuckery of augments after the eugenics war – they took a criminal bound for death row and injected him with it. It was such a surprise when he turned into a monster and slaughtered them all,” she told them, bitterness seeping from her every pore. “Because _no one_ could have seen that one coming.”

If she expected Jim to laugh, she was disappointed. He just stared at her. It was Spock who spoke next. “When you say monster, are you engaging in the typical human usage of euphemism?”

“I wish,” she said. “No. I don’t have another word for what they were but – it was a mutation brought on by infection.” She scrolled through the files, until she found Sam’s debriefing. She brought the report up and found Sam’s description of the things.

“That,” Jim said as he finished reading, “Is insane.”

Lenore shrugged. “It’s what happened.”

Jim shot her a glance and sighed. “Bones, I’m not doubting you.” He scratched his neck. “I’m pissed all to hell that you didn’t tell me this earlier,” he told her, and his deceptively light voice didn’t fool her for a second. “But I don’t doubt you when you tell me they’re monsters. You’re not prone to exaggeration.”

“I must disagree, Captain,” Spock said. Lenore turned to glare at him. “The doctor is most prone to exaggeration, particularly when it comes to the dire consequences of not heeding her instructions. However,” he added, quirking an eyebrow at her, “I too believe that, in these circumstances, bowing to Dr McCoy’s expertise may be the best option we have available to us.”

“You bet your desert-dwelling behind it is,” she grumbled. She scrubbed a hand over her hair again, knowing she was leaving it a mess but not finding the energy to care. “Look, just – here’s what happened.

“We got in through the ARK. It was an ancient alien form of teleportation between Mars and Earth,” she explained, forestalling Spock’s inevitable comment. “When we got there, we shut it down. We were supposed to find and eliminate the threat, and secure the UAC’s property. We were met by one of the forensic archaeologists, my twin brother Samuel Grimm. He joined our team and we went in to try and recover the six scientists who had been in the affected areas when they went in to lockdown. We found one alive – Carmack, who had already been infected when we found him.

“We went down one by one.” She sighed. “It was a damn shit show. No one knew what these things were, or what was happening. We were expecting a pissed off employee with a gun, or maybe an enemy infil squad, but instead we got mutated monsters. The only thing that put them down were bullets – one to the head, one to the heart. Otherwise they just got back up.” She had to suppress a shudder.

Lenore looked at Jim and kept going. “We lost Goat first. He reanimated as one of those things but – he knew he was turning. He killed himself before he became one of those things – smashed his head against a goddamn wall until he crushed his own skull.” Jim was pale, sweaty, but his gaze didn’t flinch under hers. “I don’t remember what order the rest of us died in. Is that bad?”

“You say ‘us’ like you died down there too,” Jim said softly.

“I did,” she told him. “And I don’t just mean metaphorically, either. I took a ricochet to the gut – my own damn bullet – and I was bleeding out. Sam infected me with C-24 to try and save my life. I told him no, that I didn’t want to take the risk, but he did it anyway. He always believed in my inherent goodness,” she said, lips twisting. “Fucking idiot.”

“It clearly worked,” Spock said, “So your belief that your brother was incorrect in that assumption is inherently false.”

She glared at him, but it was half-hearted at best. “Spock, you don’t know half of the shit I’ve done.”

“No,” he agreed. “I do, however, know you as you are today. And I am also aware of the amount of people who have you to thank for their lives on this ship alone. With the information at hand, I feel safe in the assumption that you are, at heart, a good person, Dr McCoy.”

Lenore’s heart stuttered and she muttered, “Damn it, Spock.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and decided to take the path of least resistance: changing the subject. “Anyway. By the time we knew what was happening, it was too late to stop the spread of the infection. We went back through the ARK and shut down the compound on Earth. Sarge cleaned house, killing anything that moved. The deaths – half of them would never have turned, but he wasn’t prepared to take that risk. When the Kid tried to stop him, he died. After that, Sarge got infected. He broke Sam’s back. I – fought him. Threw him back through the ARK and sent a grenade in after him. The ARK closed and never opened again, and Olduvai was written off. As far as I know, it’s been closed since, even after the Utopia colony opened.”

It was a surprisingly effective summary. It didn’t express half of the turmoil she still felt at the situation. At finding her brother on the floor, barely breathing. At Sarge, turning to her, his voice asking, “You gonna shoot me?” as if they were playing a god damn video game.

“Shit, Bones,” Jim said, and she nodded. Another effective summary. “And now they want to go back down there.”

“Yup,” Lenore said, leaning back in her chair. She shot him another glance out of the corner of her eye. “You gonna try and stop me from leading the mission?”

Jim looked physically pained when he shook his head. “You heard Pike as clear as I did. But I don’t know how we’re going to explain this one.”

She shrugged. “We could try and say it’s classified,” she suggested, quirking her eyebrow at him. Jim grimaced and Spock rolled his eyes, but the small joke broke the heavy atmosphere in the room.

“You’re the one telling Uhura,” Jim told her firmly and she let the smile spread across her face until she broke out into laughter, imagining her friend’s face at the response. Jim chuckled too, her tension dissolving from her shoulders. For a second, she genuinely believed she could do anything with these two at her side.

Then reality reasserted itself. She tilted her head to look at the ceiling and considered her chances of convincing them to stay here and let her deal with it. Based on their history, she’d go with approximately -30000%. That seemed scientific.

Rolling her head to the side, she fixed Spock with a glare. “You understand this is a suicide mission?”

The first officer nodded at her, even over Jim’s protest of, “Bones!”

“Alright,” she said, satisfied. “I’ll lead the team. They need to be capable of using projectile weaponry. I don’t think phasers will have an effect on them unless we dissolve them entirely, and they’re just not made for that kind of extended usage.” She eyed Jim for a second before turning back to Spock. “Are you certified on any old earth weaponry?”

“No,” Spock replied. She bit back a curse. “The Captain-”

“Cannot be a part of this mission, Spock,” she said. She didn’t even let Jim get started before she fixed him with the sort of glare that would send a full-grown Klingon running to his mother. “I need my authority to be absolute on this mission, Jim. And having you there, with your Captain’s stripes, is not conducive to that. I’d be pushing it with the Commander.”

“You’re not going down there alone,” Jim told her, eyes dark. “I don’t care what you say.”

She thought about it, then his the button for the comm. “Lieutenant Sulu, can you come to the ready room for a moment?” She watched Jim’s face as she said it and she could read the grudging acceptance there as clearly as any written text.

“Acknowledged,” Sulu replied. A few seconds later, he walked into the room. “Sir,” he said to the Captain. “How can I help?”

“Hikaru,” Lenore drawled. “What sort of projectile weaponry are you certified on?”

 

***

 

In her quarters, Lenore stripped away the parts of herself that were Dr McCoy and folded them neatly to put in her drawers. She turned to the replicators and programmed her specs in, comfortable in a way that rang warning bells in the reasonable part of her mind.

The blacks she wore were standard Starfleet tactical clothes. The tac vest she shrugged on was a replicated version of the one she had worn two centuries before (and intermittently since, though she tried not to think of those moments). The holster on her thigh was replicated as well. The handgun she slotted into it was not. Nor was the G36 she hefted onto her shoulder to check the sight. The familiar voice that welcomed her settled her old name on her shoulders.

She walked over to her mirror and stared at the ghost that looked back. _One last thing_ , she thought, and picked up a pair of scissors. It was easy enough to grab hold of the mane of hair and hack it off. It was even easier to buzz the rest of it off. She left just enough to keep a soft fuzz on her head and when she ran a hand over it, it felt like coming home.

When she left her quarters to head to the bridge, she didn’t leave as Lenore McCoy. She was Joanna Grimm again.

The bridge had transformed into a war council while she was prepping. Her team was standing in front of a rack of weaponry that Scotty was fussing over like it was his firstborn. Spock was deep in conversation with Sulu, and Pike was back on the viewscreen, holding Jim’s attention. He didn’t hold it long, though, because the second she entered, Nyota spotted her and her mouth dropped open.

“Lenore?” she squealed. Joanna smirked, filing that away as ammunition for when she got back. She quirked an eyebrow and thought, _guess again_.

Pike stared at her like he’d never seen her before. Jim couldn’t quite meet her gaze. The tips of Spock’s ears were green. She was glad that the four red-shirts that stood next to Scotty didn’t seem to pay much attention to her as she strode over to them and held out a hand to Sulu. He passed her the padd and she glanced at the list.

**Command:** Dr L.H. McCoy, Olduvai specialist.

**Team members:**           Lt. Hikaru Sulu, XO.

                                    Lt. Ezichi Abodi

                                    Ensign Santiago Chavas

                                    Ensign Ken Saito

                                    Crewman Maria Martelli

She knew the names, if only from annual check-ups. She didn’t think she’d actually treated Ensign Saito before, which was a relief: if nothing else, there was one member of her team who wasn’t accident prone. She nodded her approval and handed the padd back to Sulu, turning to the weapons in front of her.

She pursed her lips. “This all you could scrounge up?” she asked Scotty, who swelled up with indignation.

“Scrounge-? Aye, lassie, that’s awfully close to offensive,” he protested. “I suppose I have ye to thank for the insistence on _projectile_ weaponry?”

She reached for a phase-rifle and hefted it onto her shoulder, checking the safety and magazine on autopilot. It wasn’t bad, she thought, for a replicated piece of crap. She shrugged the strap over her back, opposite her G36, and glanced at Scotty. “You have me to thank for knowing a damn thing about those things,” she told him, and she kept her voice low but it still carried across the bridge. “Phasers won’t do a damn thing to them.”

She pulled out two handguns from the rack and weighed them for a moment. She preferred the E-16, a smooth shooting model based on the ancient Glock 19s, but the F62s packed a lot more power. She almost put the E-16 back but then stopped, realising she didn’t have to choose between them. She holstered the F62 on her left hip, opposite her faithful handgun, then bent down to secure the E-16 in her boot. She took as many extra magazines as she could and stored them in her tac vest, then grabbed a belt of SD grenades and secured it around her waist. She checked she could reach her knife on her thigh, then reached around for the handle of the one strapped to her back. Pleased with the range of movement, she turned back to Scotty, to find his jaw open.

“What?” she asked. She glanced around. Everyone was staring at her and she scowled. Turning to Sulu, she ordered, “Gear up. And don’t take anything you aren’t familiar with. If you fumble changing your magazine, it’s the difference between life and death.”

“Yes, sir,” Sulu replied, snapping a smart salute and heading for the rack himself. Their team followed him and she grimaced at Maria’s loose hair.

“Crewman,” she said. Maria Martelli glanced back at her, eyebrows raised. “Put your god damn hair up. One of those things gets a hand of you, you’re dead. Don’t give it more handholds.” The crewman flushed, but Joanna didn’t have time to soothe hurt feelings.

She crossed the bridge to stand beside Jim and stare at Chris. The Admiral met her gaze evenly, giving no ground. Well, she didn’t exactly want him to give goddamn ground. Not today.

“Admiral,” she said. “Any last minute orders?”

Pike’s lips went thin and his nostrils flared unhappily. “Just the usual, Doctor,” he said. “Don’t die. And bring back everyone you can.”

At least he hadn’t told her to bring everyone back. That was the sort of order she couldn’t obey. She raised her eyebrows at him and replied, “Understood.” Then, turning to Jim, she asked, “How long have we got?”

Her friend didn’t look up at her when he said, “We’re about ten minutes out.”

Her heart ached. She tried to remember how to block that pain out, but it had been so long she wasn’t sure she was capable of it anymore.

“Understood,” she repeated and went back to join her team. She raked her eyes over every one of them, but found that she approved. Sulu knew how to put a team together, at least.

“Are you sure you want to come with on this?” she found herself asking him in an undertone. She and Sulu had never been particularly close, but she knew enough to know he preferred the helm to the sword on his hip.

He looked back at her, one eyebrow raised almost sardonically. “Are you?”

Well, he had her there. She didn’t bother answering, instead checking her ammo again. It was a nervous tic she wasn’t ever going to shake, but it was better than some of the tics she could have developed in the last two centuries.

Spock appeared at her elbow. She didn’t look up, but it didn’t deter his hovering. “What, Spock?” she grunted, tightening the harness on her thigh again.

Spock’s hesitation was enough to make her focus on him instead of her arsenal. He was giving her a look that, on a human, would have almost been concern. “Doctor,” he said. “It is my belief, and the Captain’s, that you would be best served with more experienced company on the surface.”

“We’ve been over this, Spock,” she said, accepting an earpiece from Nyota with a nod of gratitude. “You aren’t familiar enough with these sorts of weapons. Jim needs to keep his butt firmly up here.”

Spock still didn’t look happy. “While I do not doubt the training and capabilities of the away team,” he said, “I find myself unhappy with the amount of preparation you have had for such a mission. On an emotional human mind, returning to a scene of traumatic events can have great, negative results.”

Joanna grinned. Leaning closer, she whispered into those pointy ears of his, “Then it’s a good thing that I’m not human, huh?” She leant back and couldn’t help but smirk at the look of consternation on his face. “Relax, Spock. If anyone’s going to survive down there, it’s me.”

Spock frowned. “While I am concerned for your physical health, Doctor, I would be remiss in not also concerning myself with your emotional health. Particularly if the survival rates of this mission mirror your previous one.”

Yeah, he had a point there. “Well, Spock,” she drawled. “The best I can offer is that we’ll deal with that after the mission.”

“Sir,” the helmsman called. Kelso, she thought his name was. “We are now approaching Mars.”

“Standard orbit,” Jim ordered and finally turned to look at her. Joanna’s heart twisted. She hated being the one to put that look on his face.

She looked back at Spock and said, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while I’m down there.” Then she turned to Nyota and said, “Are you patched into the camera on my G36?”

“We’re receiving footage,” she said. Nyota didn’t look any happier than the rest of the bridge crew, Joanna thought, and for a second Lenore fought for the surface, scolding her for letting her team get hurt like this. “Your comms are activated now.”

“Good,” she said. “Captain, Admiral. Permission to get this shit show started?”

“Such language, doctor,” Pike scolded half-heartedly. “But yes, permission granted. Don’t get killed down there, Lenore.”

“That’s not my name,” she said softly. She hefted the G36 and let her palm hit the handle. The woman’s voice that filled the bridge was familiar only to her.

“ _Identity confirmed. Welcome, Reaper_.”


	2. this world ain't ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh here's the graphic depictions of violence and also some minor character death that I don't think I tagged for

Beaming down to Olduvai should have felt more monumental than it did. Instead, when Reaper materialised in a crouch, she swept her gun from left to right to clear the room. Even after two hundred years, the atrium was well-lit. There must have been power somewhere, especially since the environment controls were still working. The smell of the bodies washed over her, but her companions gagged.

“What’s _that_?” Saito gasped. Reaper didn’t bother answering.

“I’m surprised there are bodies left,” Chavas offered, pulling out his tricorder. Reaper tried to remember who told him to carry one, but gave up. She’d lost track of her team, aside from their martial abilities, somewhere along the way. “Two hundred years? They should be skeletons.”

“Artificial environment,” Reaper grunted, marching past them to check the corridor. When nothing appeared, she added, “Life signs, Ensign?”

“Um,” Chavas said. Reaper looked at him, impatient. “It’s uh – I think that I’m registering some hotspots. But I can’t guarantee they’re life signs.”

“Are they moving?” she asked. A part of her couldn’t believe she had to even ask, especially when the kid started nodding.

“Yeah!” And god damn him, he sounded excited about the whole thing. Jesus take pity on her soul.

“Are they moving _toward us?_ ” she gritted out. The kid looked at her and seemed to realise that she wasn’t as happy about the life signs as he was.

“Uh,” he said, thumbing the tricorder awkwardly. “No? They’re a couple of levels below us.”

“How far?” Sulu asked, leaning over Chavas’s shoulder.

“Three levels,” he said, and the kid was starting to sound a little more certain at least. “There are a couple of hotspots here. Then there are some in the, uh, genetics lab?”

Of course there were. Reaper shouldered her gun and peered through the scope, panning it around so the bridge crew above could get a view of the room. “You copy that, Captain?”

“Received, loud and clear,” Jim’s voice came back, comforting in her ear. “Call it, Reaper.”

A rush of affection at Jim’s casual use of her handle. Then, “They can use the sewers to escape us. The best option would be to find some defensible ground and get them to come to us, but somehow I don’t see that happening without getting their blood up first.” She thought for a second, then glanced at her team. “Anyone up for a game of bait the bear?”

“Bones,” Jim protested, but Sulu was already smirking back at her. “That sounds dangerous.”

Reaper shouldered her gun and sighed. “Jim, none of this is safe. Alright. Chavas, give me a schematic of the building.” The kid offered her pad and she projected it onto the wall. Tracing the paths in her mind, she nodded. “How deep can we get before you can’t beam us out, Enterprise?”

“That is yet to be determined,” Spock told her. “However, I theorise that it will take no more than two or three levels before the interference of the mineral deposits becomes troublesome.”

“In which case,” Reaper said, “We need to get below them and push them up. Here,” she added, tapping the schematic to one of the labs just below them. “Chavas, Martelli, you two will set up base here. There can only be two entrances, so you have to block every other way in you find – including any vents on the floor. These things can bust right through them.” A memory rose unbidden: Destroyer, blood welling up out of his mouth. “Sulu, Saito, you’ll take the elevator down here,” she gestured to the far western corridor. “Start in the sewers. Shoot what you can, then start leading them up. Don’t get caught, because if they get their hands on you, you are dead. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the chorus returned.

“Abodi, you’re with me,” she told the young lieutenant that remained. “We’ve got a harder job. You up for it?” Abodi nodded. She, unlike Martelli, had short hair, buzzed almost as close to her head as Reaper had hers. “We’ve got to get to genetics undetected. We’ll go in here, then take the vents until we reach the elevator shaft _here_. Understood?”

Another affirmative. Reaper hesitated, then spoke again. “Listen up,” she ordered. “Our job here today is to gather information of the status of this base. It is not to play the hero. It is not to go down trying to defeat these things. If we gather enough information, Starfleet can and will authorise the Enterprise to act with all due force – from the safety of orbit. You are all on comms. If you need extraction, you ask for it. Do you understand me?” She looked from face to face, trying to make eye contact with all of them. “I said, do you _understand me_?”

“Yes, sir!” five voices chorused back.

“Alright then,” she said, stepping back. “If I hear one thing about any of you fuckers playing hero, I will crawl down into hell to pull you back and kill you myself. Let’s move out.”

They moved. Reaper led them to the first corridor, where she and Sulu went first – her right, him left – before she lifted her arm and let the other four go past her. She exchanged a grateful glance with Sulu. At least someone on this team seemed to know what they were doing.

The first set of stairs they came to set Reaper’s heart racing. She darted forwards to the railings and peered through her scope down to the darkness at the bottom. In a hushed whisper, she said, “Chavas? Anything?”

“No, sir,” the ensign replied, equally hushed.

“Alright. Sulu, take point,” she ordered. It killed her not to take it herself, but she would be more use up here to shoot anything that came close. Her eyes were better than her teams’ by a distance.

Sulu kept his back to the wall as he descended, gun up. He cleared the corner, then gestured the others forwards. Abodi and Chavas passed him, then Martelli and Saito, and Reaper began her descent to join Sulu. The doors that led to the hallway looked slightly bent, but when their team burst through them they swung on their hinges easily enough. The clang of a door hitting the wall made Reaper cringe.

“Please try and remember that we don’t want them to find us _yet_ ,” she whispered into her comm.

Chavas’s chagrined, “Sorry,” just served to piss her off more. The lights flickered down here, and she pushed passed them to take point. The others automatically rearranged, leaving Martelli at the back to bring up the rear. Reaper cleared the next corner and led her team round to the lab she’d been aiming for.

She crouched beside it and quirked an eyebrow at Chavas. The kid grabbed his tricorder and scanned the room before shaking his head at her. She pointed at Sulu and Abodi, then the door, then held up three fingers. She counted down silently, and her team moved into the abandoned lab.

And it was abandoned, by living things at least. But the body on the table, even starting to decompose as it was, still looked like her friend. She was surprised that one of the creatures hadn’t started chewing on Destroyer yet. She glanced behind him and saw Portman’s body. She knew that on the other side of that glass, she’d find Goat’s remains. Something hard settled in her stomach and she tore her eyes away from the bodies of her friends.

Two hundred years, and this place was still getting to her. She’d meant it when she’d told Sam it was cursed.

“Bones?” Jim’s voice in her ear pulled her back. “What’s the situation?”

She turned away from Destroyer’s body and grabbed a sheet from the draw to throw over him. “We’re at the lab,” she told the Enterprise. “Martelli and Chavas are going to set up base here. Sulu and I are taking Abodi and Saito to flush the rest out.”

“I heard the plan, Bones,” Jim said patiently. “I’m looking for a sit-rep from you. You’re awfully quiet.”

She considered telling him to fuck off. Instead, she admitted quietly, “I didn’t think their bodies would still be here.”

“Bodies?” a muffled voice came from her comm, and she’d recognise Chekov’s sweet confusion from lightyears away. She lifted her gun again to give them a shot of Destroyer, then of Portman.

“Your squad,” Jim breathed. “You okay, Bones?”

“Situation normal, Captain,” she replied, resting the barrel of her gun in her other hand.

“All fucked up?” and that was Sulu, right next to her. She couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Sounds about right,” she said. She shook her head. “Martelli, Chavas, you good?” The two young soldiers were blocking off one of the doors, schematic of the building already floating beside them, projected from the padd.

“Yes, sir,” Martelli told her. “We’ll have this room secure in a jiffy.”

“Good,” Reaper said. She turned to Sulu. “Let’s get ourselves a bear hunt.”

Sulu grinned.

 

***

 

It turned out that, while it wasn’t fun for Reaper, she could at least crawl through the vents carrying her arsenal without making approximately as much noise as a mutt chasing a postman. The same could not be said for Lt. Abodi, and every clang of her gun hitting against the metal was another headache for Reaper.

“Lieutenant,” she muttered into her comm, “If you cannot keep that gun in the air, I will take it away from you and leave you defenceless. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Abodi panted, and the part of Reaper that was Lenore reminded her that, while she might have super speed and stamina, not everyone did. She sighed, relenting.

“We only have another hundred feet to go, lieutenant,” she whispered. “If you need a break, speak up now.”

“I’m good, sir,” Abodi told her, and Reaper took her at her word. She kept going.

When they reached the vent, she let Abodi scan the area below her. “There aren’t any heat signatures right here,” the lieutenant whispered, “But there are some close. The minute we start that elevator, we’re going to get all the attention in the world.”

“Who said we were going to start the elevator?” Reaper asked, then dropped through the hole before the lieutenant had a chance to respond. She dropped to her knee and spun the gun around steadily, clearing the three corridors with one look. Abodi dropped down beside her and mirrored her swiftly. At least the team seemed to know their way about a mission, Reaper thought, before turning to the elevator. “Keep watch,” she ordered, then swung her gun over her shoulder and tore the steel doors open.

Turning back to Abodi, she was gratified to see the woman still watching vigilantly for monsters, rather than gawping at her.

“What’s the plan, Bones?” Jim asked in her ear. “That’s going to have drawn attention.”

“Aye, keptin,” Chekov added. “Three heat signatures moving your way, doctor!”

“Good,” Reaper said. She glanced back up at the ceiling. “Abodi, I’m going to give you a lift.”

“You want me back in the vents?” Abodi gaped at her, but obediently stepped into Reaper’s hands when she offered the lift. The woman fit herself neatly in the vent, then offered a hand down for Reaper. She waved her off. “Doctor-”

“Stay out of the way,” Reaper ordered. “And if you shoot them, try not to hit me.”

Then they were there. Two came at her from in front, and one was further back on her right. She hefted her gun and pulled the trigger, mowing down the first two. One went down with a head shot. The other went down as well, but it wasn’t going to stay down. The third reached for her and she threw herself backwards, bringing her G36 up to blow its brains out as it jumped on front of her. It fell forwards, deadweight, and she shoved it to the side, grunting. She pulled herself up just in time to see the second one almost upon her, only to fall down with a neat headshot. She glanced up at Abodi and quirked an eyebrow. The woman shrugged.

“Bones, report!” Jim ordered. He sounded frantic.

“Keep it down, kid,” Reaper replied, cracking her neck as she stood up. “Contact made. Three hostiles down.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jim muttered. “What the hell were those things?”

“The babies,” Reaper told him, then jerked her head at Abodi. “There will be more coming. We’d better start running.”

“This is your plan?” Jim, up on the Enterprise, sounded slightly hysterical. “Piss them off and run?”

Well, yeah. “What did you think baiting a bear meant?” Sulu asked from the other side of the compound. “The whole point is that Martellli and Chavas are waiting to trap them in the centre.” Then the sound of gunfire and a soft grunt, followed by a scream. Reaper didn’t freeze.

“Report!” she ordered as Abodi hit the floor beside her. They exchanged a worried glance before heading off to the left, where none of the heat signatures had been. “Sulu!”

“Contact made,” the helmsman replied, breath coming in heavy pants. “We’re moving.”

_I should have taken the sewers_ , she thought as she and Abodi hurtled down a corridor straight towards a growling black mass. She didn’t pause before firing, and neither did the woman beside her. The thing went down, but the shadows started moving, and she turned back. “This way!” she ordered, keeping her gun trained on the things chasing them. Abodi turned and ran, taking point, and Reaper followed her.

“And Saito?” Jim asked, and thank God for small blessings when Saito replied.

“I’m alright, sir,” he said. He sounded like he was in pain. “It got me, but it’s only a flesh wound.”

“Where?” Reaper snapped, at the same time as Spock’s infinitely more patient voice inquired, “Where is the injury located, Mr Saito?”

“My – side,” the man in question panted. “Right side, just below my ribcage. Nothing life threatening.”

“Good,” Reaper muttered, then took another shot. One of the things chasing her flopped to the floor, tripping the other two that she could see. One looked awfully like the thing that Pinkie had turned into. She shot at that next.

“Up the speed, Bones,” Jim ordered. She knew he was tracking her vitals from the Enterprise, but as she hurtled down the corridor after Abodi’s sprinting form, she wished he was here just so she could punch him in his smug mouth. “Thought you were supposed to be superman here. Spock’s grandmother can run faster than this.”

“Spock’s grandma’s a goddamn Vulcan, Jim,” she snarled, but she still sped up to join Abodi, twisting back to take another shot. She missed, but only a by a ways – the thing was still bleeding.

“My grandmother is, in fact, deceased,” Spock reminded them all, and the Lenore part of her rolled her eyes. “And, as such a state suggests, can no longer run at all.” There was a horrified silence on the bridge, before Reaper guffawed over the comm.

“God damn it, Spock,” she said. “Stop making them feel guilty.”

“My intent was simply to inform,” he told her primly. “To say such a thing in order to attain an emotional response is simply illogical.”

“Fascinating,” she snarked, then swore. “Abodi, stop!” She lifted her gun, but she was too late. Too busy running, Abodi hadn’t noticed the shadows moving in front of her and one of the creatures launched itself at her, claws catching her neck. Reaper took the shot – two to the heart – and the thing dropped the lieutenant, its claws leaving a long red scratch in its wake. “No!”

She threw herself down at Abodi’s side and pressed her hands over the woman’s neck. “Damn it,” she snarled. Behind them, two creatures were almost upon them. “Enterprise, emergency beam up! Get Lieutenant Abodi to medbay now!” Then she took her hands off of the woman’s neck to lift her gun up. She got one shot off before the thing was upon her, knocking the gun from her hands and sending her staggering back. She passed through the place Abodi’s body had been a moment before.

The creature swung at her and she did the only thing she could: dive down and roll between its legs. She pulled the knife from her thigh holster as she did and came up behind it to stab down, into its heart through its back. The creature screamed in agony, and she was thrown to the side again. She heard more than felt the _pop_ of her shoulder dislocating and snarled.

The creature backed her into the wall and she waited until it was almost upon her to move, a fist to the gut, a knee to the balls, then hooking her foot behind its knee and pulling its weight out from underneath it. It went down and she leapt over it, into a single-handed handspring that she hadn’t been able to do as a human, but as an augment was possible. Her shoulder protested violently, but the right hand was working, and once she was upright again she pulled her handgun out of her thigh holster and put the bastard down.

Silence. She panted, waiting for any sign of movement. Then, satisfied that there were no more right with her, she holstered her gun and fetched the knife from the creature’s back, and her G36. She slung it over her good shoulder and said into the comm, “Report.”

“Bones?” That was Jim. “Abodi’s alive. M’Benga doesn’t know if she’ll survive yet.” He sounded so serious it broke her heart. “Are you okay?”

She grimaced at her useless left arm and reached up, grasping it firmly. “Sure,” she lied, shoving the thing back into its socket. “Just dandy. Sulu, you good?”

“Sure,” Sulu replied and there was a familiar bang of a grenade going off. “But these guys are _not_ happy.”

“I don’t think they know what happy is,” Reaper told him. She sighed. “Martelli, Chavas?”

Silence.

Fear felt like molten lava in her stomach. “Martelli? Chavas? Report!” She was moving again, in a steady jog away from the three bodies and Abodi’s blood. “Ensign Chavas! Crewman Martelli, report!”

“Can you get their biosigns?” she heard Jim ask someone in her ear, and Reaper sped up. “Bones, I can’t find them. There are no life signs in the lab-”

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Reaper snarled and dropped into an outright sprint. She turned a corner, gun already up, and she heard Jim suck in a breath to warn her as she dropped the creature in front of her with a single shot. “I’m going to fucking _murder_ the admiralty.”

“Bones,” Jim protested. “This is an official channel.”

She considered censoring herself. Then: “Good. Then I’ve got some words for them.” The string of curses she let out was a personal best, if she did say so herself. She hurtled into the stairwell and took five in a single step. “Is Chris still there?”

“I’m here, Lenore,” Pike said, his voice stilted. “We have enough information to call this a bust. I’ll pull you out now.”

“Like hell you will,” she snarled. “With two of my team unaccounted for?”

“The admiralty believe that cutting their losses might be the best option at this time,” he said, his voice low. She reached a pair of double doors and spun, putting her back to the wall to peer through them. There were three – no, four shapes out there.

In a whisper, she demanded, “Am I still in charge of this mission?”

“Yes,” Chris told her. “Of course.”

“Sulu, are you two in a place where a beam out sounds good?” she asked, just as Saito let out a blood chilling scream. “Sulu! Saito!”

“Emergency beam out!” Sulu yelled. “Enterprise, get us out of here now! Saito!”

The voice cut off and Reaper’s stomach dropped even further. She wondered if she would actually throw up. She hadn’t felt this badly about a mission since she was a green cadet herself. Groaning, she threw herself through the double doors and came out shooting.

She took out two before one grabbed her around the neck. She dropped the gun and wrapped her legs around the arm, twisting her body until she could _snap_ the arm out of its socket and the thing dropped her on her back, roaring in agony. She roared right back, jamming her thumbs into its eyes. Blood and brain fluid trailed down her wrists as she threw the corpse aside, staggering to her feet and pulling the F62 from her hip. She stood, feet shoulder-width apart, and shot the bastard until it went down.

Panting, she reloaded and safely holstered the gun again. She bent down to pick up her G36, only to find the poor thing had been the victim of one of those things crushing it. The barrel was bent and there was no use left in it. Her heart ached: it was the only thing she’d carried with her since before C-24, and its loss resonated with her.

“Bones?” Jim asked. She dropped the gun. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she rasped. “My G36 is broken. You’ll have to survive without visuals.”

“Shit,” Jim said. “Bones – with no biosigns, the likelihood of Martelli and Chavas being alive is-”

“Would you leave them behind?” she asked, pulling out her handgun and striding down the corridor towards the lab. “If it were you down here, Jim, would you beam up without knowing? Without seeing their bodies yourself?”

There was silence on the other end of the comm. Then, a defeated, “No, Bones. You know I wouldn’t.”

“The Enterprise doesn’t leave a man behind,” she said. “Semper fi, Jim.”

“Jesus, Bones,” he said, laughing a little. “You really were a goddamn marine, huh?”

“I was,” she said, clearing the corner. “And get this, Jim – I was the field medic, too.”

Another burst of laughter, and a sigh. “Just be careful, Bones. I need you back up here.” There was such a heaviness in his voice that she _knew_.

“Saito didn’t make it, did he.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Jim said. “M’Benga did everything he could.”

“I know he did,” she said. “I couldn’t have done better.” She turned, took two shots. The creature his the floor, but there were more behind it – a swarm. “Jim,” she said, taking another shot, “If I don’t make it-”

“Don’t say that,” he snarled. “Don’t-”

“Alright,” she said, taking another shot, then they were upon her. She didn’t need to say it, she thought as she grappled with the creature, throwing it over her shoulder. She pulled out her knife from her thigh holster and beheaded the bastard, hacking twice, then three times, before the brain stem was cut completely and the thing dropped. She pulled out the F62 and shot, running down the hall and trailing three more of the fuckers. “I won’t say it.”

“Doctor?” she heard Spock in her ear. “You are headed directly into more heat signatures. One of them is significantly lower than the others. I hypothesize that, if either Martelli or Chavas are alive, they are ahead of you.”

“Fuck,” she muttered, then spun around to deal with the three behind her. She took one out, then the second and third fell on top of her together. The second had her leg in its mouth and she roared as she snapped the third’s neck with her bare hands, kicking at the last one until it flew off her. “Mother _fucker_.”

“Report, Bones!” Jim ordered as she shot the last in its head.

“Guh,” she said. She sat up, checked the leg. Not broken – or well, not broken for long, she thought, as she shoved the bone back into place. “Gimme a minute, then guide me to the heat signature, Mr Spock.”

“Of course, Doctor.” Spock sounded slightly perturbed. “Your vital signs seem to be in some distress,” he said. “Are you in need of emergency aid?”

“Nope,” she lied, watching her flesh knit back together. “Check again. Your readings must be off.”

“Hmm,” Spock said. “Fascinating.”

She pulled herself up and found herself grinning. “You bet your ass it is,” she muttered. “Alright, which way?”

“Approximately 10.2 metres ahead of you, there is a left turning.”

“I see it,” she said, striding forwards. She changed her clip as she walked. She’d lost her knife somewhere in the pile of bodies, but she had another strapped to her back. “Where next?”

“There should be a set of doors fifty metres ahead.”

“Aw, shit,” she muttered. “It leads to a stairwell. Up or down?”

“Up,” he said. “There are four heat signatures, as well as the lower one.”

“On it,” she said, entering the stairwell. “Going dark.”

“Be careful, Bones,” Jim ordered, and she took the stairs silently. The doors led out to the atrium, she realised, and when she peered through the windows she wanted to scream.

There, at the centre of the room, were two figures. One, prone on the floor, was Martelli. Her throat had been injured, and Reaper would have to put her down. Her head was cradled in Chavas’s lap, who seemed to be crying.

Three figures surrounded them, pacing back and forth, hissing. There wasn’t a fourth in sight, but maybe Martelli’s body was the last heat signature? But why weren’t the three creatures attacking?

_Fuck this_ , she thought. “I have a problem,” she breathed into the comm. I can see Chavas. He’s alive. Martelli’s been infected. There are three creatures. They aren’t attacking Chavas… it looks like they’re guarding him.”

“Shit,” Jim said back. “Mr Chekov, can you get a lock onto Ensign Chavas?”

“Negative, sir,” Chekov replied. “Not without bringing the others with him.”

“No, Jim,” she whispered, before he had the time to consider it. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You can’t do this alone!” he protested, but Spock spoke over him.

“You can only see three creatures?”

“Yes,” she said. “Maybe Martelli is the fourth-?”

“I do not believe so,” Spock replied. “If she is currently in the process of transformation, she is currently dead, correct?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“There is a fourth in there. Doctor, if you proceed, I urge caution.”

“Received, Commander,” she whispered. “I’m going in.” She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“A redundant, illogical tradition,” Spock said, and she was smiling as she burst through the doors. The three creatures turned to her and _leapt_. She took two down before she hit the floor, ducking under the third. It reached for her head but she darted back, bringing her arm up to block it. She punched up, twice, once into the gut and once into the head, then she broke free and shoved the barrel of her gun under its neck and pulled the trigger.

She stumbled away, the spray of blood hot on her face. She spared a thought for how she looked as she hurried towards Chavas and pulled him away from Martelli’s body, only to have him cringe from her in fear.

“Chavas,” she snapped, tugging his head from side to side to check his neck. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he whispered. He was still cringing, cowering in on himself. “He killed Martelli?”

“She’s not dead yet,” Reaper said. Then, “Who did?”

There was a laugh behind her. She turned slowly, the sense of doom settling on her shoulders.

Sarge didn’t look human, any more, but he didn’t exactly look like one of those things either. His eyes were reptilian, and his skin was stretched and bubbling, but his features were the way she remembered them. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Captain,” she said into her comm. “Beam Chavas up immediately.”

“No, wait,” Chavas said, but Jim was speaking over him.

“Copy that, Bones. Do you need extraction?”

“No,” she said slowly. She didn’t look away from Sarge. “I’ve got something to take care of.”

Sarge laughed, low and rumbling. “You think you can finish me this time?”

Joanna couldn’t. Hell, even Reaper hadn’t managed it. But she’d lived a lot of lives since she was last Joanna Grimm, trying to get her brother to safety from the monster that had once been her sergeant and closest friend. She’d been fighters and runners, politicians and lawyers. But most lately, she had been Lenore McCoy, a doctor who knew the importance of mercy.

“Yeah, Sarge,” she said. “I’ll make sure to finish this time.”

He roared. She lifted her gun and aimed, and just as she was about to pull the trigger she was thrown sideways into a wall. Her vision greyed and she knew this feeling – her skull was fractured. She pushed herself upwards to see Martelli staring at her, eyes wide and unseeing.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “I’m sorry,” she said to the woman. Then she crouched and pulled the light E-16 out of her ankle holster and straightened, putting two bullets into the crewman’s heart. The creature faltered, then stepped forwards again, screaming.

Lenore put two in its head.

Sarge was still laughing.

She turned, gun still up, and took stock of herself. Somewhere along the line, the phase-rifle she’d had on her back had disappeared. Her G36 was shattered, useless, underneath a pile of bodies. The F62 had gone flying when she had, and the holster on her thigh was empty as well. She had the E-16 in her hand, and the knife strapped to her back. And a belt of grenades.

“You gonna shoot me?” Sarge asked. Her heart missed a beat.

“Thinking about it,” she told him, and the bridge crew was shouting in her ear. She ignored them.

“What’ve you got left?”

She shook her head. “I’m not playing this game with you, Sarge.” She took a step away from the wall, circling Sarge as he pressed forwards. “Two hundred years, Sarge.”

“You left me here for two hundred years,” he agreed. “What happened to never leaving a brother behind, Jo?”

She shook her head. “C’mon, Sarge. I don’t think that quite covers this scenario.”

“You don’t?” He cocked his head. “I didn’t leave them. I made sure that their bodies were left undisturbed. It took _quite some persuading_ , too.” Destroyer, she thought. Goat, Portman. Longing almost overwhelmed her.

“Where’s the Kid?” she asked, instead of falling to her knees and begging him to just – end her. Let her stay here, with her team. “Where’s his body, Sarge?”

He snarled at her. “He wasn’t my brother.”

“He was,” she said steadily. “You killed him, Sarge. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t your brother. And I – I’m gonna kill you,” she told him. Her voice shook. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not my brother either. Semper fi.”

“Semper fi, motherfucker,” he said, and he launched himself at her. She let off a shot, but missed – the bastard was too fucking quick. She darted out of the way and brought the gun up again, only to get thrown backwards. She hit her head as she went down and her vision greyed out again, but she forced herself to move through it, staggering upwards. Her stomach rolled and she wavered, almost tripping as she went backwards.

“Is that all you’ve got left, Reaper?” Sarge had disappeared into the shadows. His voice seemed to come from everywhere. “You disappoint me.”

“Fuck you,” she snarled and ran forwards to meet him. She hit the wall. Just a goddamn shadow.

“You always were the weak one,” he said, and she spun around, gun up to take a shot, but he wasn’t there. “You should have stayed at home, Jo. I gave you the option.”

“ _FUCK YOU_!” she screamed. Spit dripped down her chin. “Come out here, you _coward!_ Come out where I can _see you_!”

Then a voice in her ear: “Doctor, his heat signature is directly above you.”

She lifted the gun and took the shot. Blood dripped onto her forehead as Sarge screamed and recoiled, darting back into the shadows of the room. She laughed.

“Come on, Sarge,” she whispered. “Let’s finish this.” He didn’t respond, but Spock was tracking him for her in her ear and she felt the weight lift away from her, her vision clearing. Her old squad was finished, she knew, but that didn’t mean she had to be alone forever. “It’s been two hundred years, Sarge! Ain’t you getting tired?”

There was a roar behind her but she was already twisting, firing directly into the body there. Sarge jerked with each hit, like a puppet on a string, but he still didn’t go down. He staggered, went to one knee, then forced himself up again.

“Tired?” he rasped. “I’m only _getting started_.”

Reaper pulled the trigger again and it _clicked_ , empty. She reached for a clip, only to find her tac vest empty. She sighed and threw the gun away, reaching behind her to unsheathe her last knife.

“Well, I’m pretty fed up of this,” she told him. She’d never lied to Sarge before and she wasn’t planning on starting now. And then she was running forwards, knife up, screaming wordlessly. They collided head on, and she sunk her knife into his chest, as he dug his claws into hers.

She choked on her own blood and grinned. The pain was – nothing. It didn’t matter. She pulled the knife out and her fingers slipped on the blood. The knife clattered to the floor. Sarge smiled back at her.

“It’s okay, Jo,” he told her. “I’ll put you with the others.”

“You will?” she asked in a whisper. She coughed on her blood again.

“Of course I will, Reaper.” He looked almost human, this close. “Semper fi.”

“Semper fi,” she agreed, and then she reached out and twisted his head off of his neck.

She threw the head away from her as they fell, the creature’s claws digging further into her chest. She wanted to swear, but didn’t have the air to do it. Shoving up weakly, she managed to push the body off enough to her the wet _slick_ of claws pulling out of her lungs.

She gasped. And then gasped again. Her lungs weren’t inflating.

Fuck.

She sucked in another breath and rasped, “En-ter-prise.”

“Bones?” Jim’s voice sounded strange. Far away. “Bones?!”

“Doctor,” Spock said.

“Lenore,” Chris called.

She smiled. “Beam – me up – Scotty,” she whispered. She breathed in and her lungs inflated. “Beam me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short epilogue to follow!!! very short because I wrote this all today and my hands are cramping


	3. so let me lay my head down next to you

The transporter room was blissfully quiet for all of five seconds, before a medical team descended upon her and she had to open her eyes to slap them away. Christine Chapel hovered over her, staring at the blood on her tac vest with an expression of abject horror.

“Get this vest off her,” her head nurse ordered, voice steady even now. Lenore smiled and shoved herself upright, pushing the busy hands away from her.

“It’s alright,” she rasped.

“With all due respect, Doctor,” and now Chapel’s voice sounded a little high-pitched. “That amount of blood is _not alright._ ”

“’M good,” she mumbled, fingers fumbling at the straps of her vest until it fell away. She abandoned the grenade belt beside it. Chapel was reaching for her chest again and she submitted to the examination with poor grace.

“But… this isn’t-”

“Bones!” Jim’s entrance cut Chapel’s exclamation off. She grinned and clambered to her feet, rubbing an arm over her face to wipe the blood away. She had a feeling, from the poorly disguised look of horror that her nurses were giving her, she just made the whole thing worse. But that didn’t matter, because a second later Jim’s arms were around her, pulling her into a crushing hug.

“Gah, Jim,” she complained. “My ribs are still healing, you sappy bastard.” She tugged backwards and let him grab her face, checking her neck for any wounds with anxious eyes. She rolled her own. “I can’t get infected.”

“I know,” he said. “But – Martelli-”

She hung her head. Yeah. Martelli’s body was still on the surface, lying abandoned on the floor with Sarge and the three unknown creatures. She shook her head and asked, “Where are the others? Abodi? Sulu?”

“In medbay,” Chapel interjected. “Where you should be right now, as well.”

“Christine, I promise I’m fine,” Lenore said, tugging her shirt up to show her freshly unblemished skin. Her bones were still knitting together, but no one needed to know that. “Just tired.”

And wasn’t that the truth. She was starving, too, and felt a distinct need to eat approximately a hippopotamus’s weight in food. Or at least a horse. Ooh. Fried okra. Fried chicken. Hell, she thought, fried anything sounded good right now. She wondered if she was salivating.

Then Jim wrapped his arm around her waist and said, “Let’s get you to your team,” and reality reasserted itself. She let him lead her away, and she didn’t feel the slightest hint of guilt in leaning against him, or hiding her face against his shoulder when she realised they were about to walk past unfamiliar ensigns. She felt filthy, down to the core, and she realised that she had some guy’s eyeballs under her fingernails.

Christ.

The walk to medbay was, thankfully, short and as soon as she entered the room she pulled away from Jim’s side and staggered into her room. Sulu was standing beside a closed curtain, and when he caught sight of her he headed towards her. Lenore couldn’t help herself: the second she was in arm’s reach, she tugged him into a tight hug.

“Are you hurt?” she rasped, patting him down. Somewhere, he’d found a gold command shirt again.

He grabbed her hands as she hit on tender bruises. “I’m okay, Doc,” he said. “Honest. Only bruises and scrapes, and your nurses have been at me already.”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and relaxed. Then her eyes were looking past Sulu, to the curtain, and she asked, “Saito?”

“He’s in there, yeah,” Sulu told her. “Abodi’s in recovery. Chavas is further down. They sedated him.”

She nodded, thinking vaguely that those decisions sounded sensible, but his words didn’t hold her focus long. She pulled away and he let her go, following at her heels as she pushed through the curtains and into the bay to see Saito lying on the bed, eyes closed.

If she tried _very hard_ , she thought, she could almost believe he was sleeping. But then she looked at his chest and the large section of his ribcage that he was missing, and she knew there was no way in hell that this guy could have survived.

“He – he couldn’t have been aware, not for very long,” she whispered as Jim joined them. Her throat hurt from screaming. “Not with those wounds.”

“He knew me,” Sulu told her. “When I called for the beam out. After that – I think he died in transport. Dr M’Benga-”

“There was no way he could have saved him,” Lenore said. She knew it was true. “Not like this.” She wondered if C-24 would have healed her from this. She had a feeling it would have, but not very quickly.

“It’s not your fault,” Sulu said. She didn’t want to listen to him. Jim placed a hand on her shoulder and held her firm. “You couldn’t have saved him.”

“He should never have been there in the first place,” she whispered.

Jim sighed. “You’re not wrong,” he agreed. “But the admirals make the decisions. That’s what being Starfleet means. And, at least,” he added hurriedly, “No one else will be going down to Olduvai. We’ve been given leave to destroy it. You can give the order, if you want.”

She shook her head and left the bay. Standing in the middle of medbay, she considered going to check on Abodi or Chavas, or going to her office to write the death certificate, but she found she couldn’t. Her hands were shaking too much.

“Does Pike need a debrief?” she asked.

Jim shook his head. “You’re in no state to debrief right now.” She thought about Sarge’s head, torn from his neck, in her hands. She agreed.

“I can go up there,” Sulu offered. He seemed to be holding up pretty well, Lenore thought. Well, better than she was, anyway. “You should… shower, sir,” he offered, and Lenore had to concede the point.

“Yeah,” she said, scratching at the blood on her face. Movement by the doors drew her attention and she relaxed a little more. “Jim, go on up and get rid of that place for me, will ya?”

“Of course, Bones,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But you shouldn’t be alone.”

“She will not be, Captain,” Spock said. He let the door close softly behind him. “That is, Doctor, if you do not object-?”

“No objections here,” she rasped, crossing to his side. “Let’s leave clean up to Jim, for once.”

Spock didn’t smile, but there was a definite softening of the edges of his smile. “Indeed.”

“No respect,” she heard Jim gripe to Sulu, but she didn’t stay to listen to the helmsman’s response, instead letting Spock lead her away, towards her quarters.

 

***

 

The shower both refreshed and exhausted her. She walked out clean, but instead of dressing she just wrapped the towel around her and wandered out, still dripping. Spock, waiting beside her viewport, didn’t seem to care particularly that she was mostly naked and dripping wet. She didn’t even get the green tinge on his ears she liked when he got embarrassed.

Maybe she looked too pitiful to be sexy. She certainly felt too pitiful to be sexy, right now. She stopped in the middle of her bedroom and stared at her bed, stomach rumbling. That was a conundrum.

“Doctor,” Spock called softly and she turned to blink at him. He was frowning at her. She felt that she might be frowning too, but was too tired to check.

Then he was beside her and reaching out with one hand, letting it hover over her bare shoulder. She stared at it and then remembered – touch telepath. He didn’t want to touch her.

That was fair enough. She didn’t want to touch her, either. She wanted to – hell, she didn’t know. She wanted it all to stop.

Then Spock’s hand was on her shoulder, warmer than he had any right to be, and guiding her into the living area, gentle and firm.

“It is alright, Doctor,” he said. “Let me fetch your robe.” And he did, disappearing and returning with a thick green woollen monstrosity that Jim had given her as a joke in their first year at the academy. She stood and stared at it, until Spock gestured at her to drop her towel. She did, and he kept his gaze calmly averted as he helped her into the robe. Lenore smiled, an exhausted tugging at her lips, at the warmth that Spock managed to incite in her.

He guided her into a seat and handed her a bowl. “Drink,” he told her, and she did. She smiled at the taste: chicken broth.

“Did you hear it’s good for the soul?” she asked and Spock quirked an eyebrow at her in confusion. She shook her head with a small laugh, waving it off, and took another drink. “Spock,” she said softly. “Thank you.” She held his gaze.

“Doctor,” he said. “Such thanks are unnecessary. You have done this ship, and the federation, a great favour with your actions today, and it is highly likely that you have spared many people a fate worse than death. Furthermore, your exhaustion and injuries are a result of such an action, and it is only right that you are tended to by those you have protected and aided. While having the entirety of the federation aid you would be unfeasible, I find it sensible to ensure that you are tended to.”

Lenore’s lips twisted bitterly. “Right,” she said. “You don’t owe me anything, Spock.”

Spock tilted his head and frowned almost imperceptibly. “Doctor,” he said again. “That is categorically untrue. You have saved a great many lives, not just today but in your continued actions aboard this ship. And, furthermore, your support since the destruction of my planet has been invaluable.”

“Aw, hell, Spock,” she muttered, dropping the soup onto the table. “That was – just what any decent person would do.”

“And this is also what a ‘decent person’ would do,” he said, voice low. “But I believe you did not aid me because you are a decent person. And I am not tending to you simply out of gratitude.”

A wave of relief crashed over Lenore and she leaned back against the back of the couch. “I see,” she said slowly.

“Is my belief erroneous?”

“I do not believe so,” she said. “But I think that we might need to undergo rigorous testing before such a hypothesis proves true.” She was leaning forwards, almost instinctively, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

Then she yawned, and Spock drew back. There was a slight upwards tilt to his lips. “I agree, Doctor. But first, I believe you must rest and recuperate. Tomorrow, we can return to our conversation.”

That sounded pretty great, Lenore thought as Spock guided her to her bed and pulled back the sheets. It was just the other conversations she had to have that she wasn’t looking forward to. Still, that was a problem for another day. And as Spock pulled the covers up over her and turned the lights off, she thought she might not have to deal with that alone.

The soft brush of fingers to her forehead felt like vindication.


End file.
